


Wastelands and Howling Cliffs

by Soar319



Series: Quirrel's Locations [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Dreams, Gen, Headcanon, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, he alone in the world, how Quirrel ended up in the wasteland, little sad, waking up without memory or why hes there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soar319/pseuds/Soar319
Summary: The mask, he has seen the mask before. He gripped even tighter, trying to grasp onto even the slightest sliver of memory.All he knew was that his name was Quirrel and something was calling him. Calling him out there. Something important.





	Wastelands and Howling Cliffs

_The seals didn't work._

_The Vessel was not pure._

_The Old Light squirmed its way through the smallest of cracks, seeped through fractures, and burrowed its orange glow into their mind until a sickening_ **crack** _tore through the kingdom, followed by a blood-curdling scream that made the ground tremble. The kingdom descended into stasis as the light wormed into both the wealthiest and poorest bugs' mind, both civilized and wild. Nature and infection both took over, their structures steadily wearing down without anybody to maintain them._

_From her tube, she watched her students abandon the Archives, scurrying away to try to escape the voice or find a cure. Her heart broke when Uumuu finally succumbed to the voice, orange cysts pulsating around its core. Uomas and oomas eventually took over Fog Canyon, taking up Uumuu's job and keeping husks out._

_She didn't know if she was disappointed or mad at herself. All the sacrifices, all the blood on the palace's spires only resulting in delaying the inevitable. The kingdom was falling, the ashes of the Wyrm burying its edge. There was only a handful of sentient bugs left, and even so, many were driven to either delusion or madness. The trickle of travelers did not help the slightest._

_The seals didn't work._

_The seals cannot be undone._  
  
_But the Vessel weakens._  
  
_That plague springs anew._  
  
_They must be undone._  
  
_Yet still the Seals remain._  
  
_Our duty holds._  
_  
_ It must be cast away.

_She gazed at the very edges of the dreamworld, where the protection of Hallownest began and end. She searched further and further out into the desolate Wasteland, where the most intelligent mind cared only for surviving until the next sunrise. Where the voice was drowned out by the howling winds._

_She searched and searched until she reached a little bubble, a small cavern encased in her own seals of binding, where time stood static like Hallownest._

_Inside, her catalyst._

_Quirrel…_

... 

_Quirrel..._

_..._

_Quirrel, can you come here for a second?_

… Was somebody calling his name?

His eyes fluttered open, Quirrel squinting a little at the sudden light. He slowly took in two heavy breaths, letting his eyes adjust to the change in brightness. Shifting, he felt liquid slosh against his body and limbs, raising his hand to see blue liquid drip off his claws.

_Lifeblood?_

He shifted and reached around, noticing how he was in some kind of narrow casket or container. Half of it was filled with the blue liquid - lifeblood, his mind reminded. The surfaces and walls were slightly gelatinous, a crack echoing through his chamber when he put some pressure against the ceiling. Pushing a little harder, the crack echoed louder. A rush of cold air seeped in but was quickly balanced out by a flood of warm water. Quirrel groaned and sat up, the blue liquid dripping off his face and limbs as it turned pale by the water.

He was in a… cocoon? A cocoon lying in the middle of a - hot spring. The water was pleasant, helping loosen up his stiff joints. He stretched, wincing a little at the cracking sounds along his shell, wondering how long has he been asleep for. The cocoon seemed to dissolve into the water, breaking down until the hot spring was a shade of soft, pale blue. He reached up, touching his face… or rather a mask. Taking it off, he shivered as his face was exposed to the cold air, giving it a quick wash. No, he didn't like his face exposed.

A plain oval mask with two large black eyes. He reached to the side of his head, noting that he had a blue hood that fit snugly around.

_Quirrel…_

He paused, glancing around. Standing up, he reluctantly got out of the spring, putting his mask on and tucking his antennae underneath. Looking around in a circle, he deduced he was in a small cavern, the muffled howling winds right outside hinting at what mystery lied outside of this safety bubble. A long lance sat by the side of the spring, shining and polished as if time never brought rust upon it.

Somehow, he knew it was his nail.

Picking up the belt lying next to it, he looped the strap around and secured his nail to his side with a familiarity he did not know had. Walking towards the exit, he pressed his hand against the opening, white lines snaking out and glowing softly underneath his palm. Pushing did nothing, nor did striking it with his nail. He hit the walls, the same seal glowing briefly. Quirrel took a few steps back, trying to assess the situation.

_Quirrel…_

Something was calling. Was that his name? How could he not know his own name?

… How did he even get here, in the first place? Now that he thought about it… why was he here? Did he have a family? Was home here? Did he have a home? Why was he stuck in here? Did somebody place him inside this cavern?

A headache began to form the more he tried to dig through the murky fog that was his memories, deciding to try another day. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, blinking as his wrist hit something above. Reaching up, he felt a smooth, cold surface. Trailing his claws down, he felt a strap securing it underneath his chin, undoing it and taking the object down.

Another mask, this one shaped like a teardrop. Two elliptical eyes with a dot above each one. He knew this wasn't his mask. He has seen this mask before. Why, of course, it was…

It was…

_Quirrel…_

He clutched the mask tighter, pulling it closer as if that would jog his memory. Two eyes with a dot above each. He has seen those eyes before. It was… The owner was…

_Quirrel…_

He sunk down to his knees, unsure why he was shaking like an earthquake, gasping for breath. Something clawed at the back of his head; desperation? Fear? A hint, a whisper, _something_. He blinked as his eyes burned a little, realizing tears were leaking out of his mask. Why was he crying? He didn't know. He didn't know why.

The mask, he has seen the mask before. He gripped even tighter, trying to grasp onto even the slightest sliver of memory.

_Quirrel…_

All he knew was that his name was Quirrel and  _something_ was calling him. Calling him out there. Something important.

He wiped away the tears, securing the mask back onto the top of his head. A rather tattered cloak hung by the exit, Quirrel putting it on and tucking the mask underneath the hood. He lowered his head, letting the mask press against the white lines.

They glowed softly before disintegrating into a curtain of sigils, fading away into thin air. The brutal whistling of the winds and vicious sandstorms rang in his ears, Quirrel tucking his hood tighter around his head.

Long long has it been? How long has he been sleeping for? Where was he going? What was he doing here in the first place?

He didn't know answers for all of them.

One question reigned above them all, burning in his mind, fueling a curiosity he did not know he possessed. He took a step forward, then another step. His cloak flapped violently in the wind, his mask protecting his face from the sand particles.

Before long, a trail of footprints were quickly washed away by the sand, the cavern disappearing under a dune. He didn't look back, staring ahead in a strange mix of curiosity and confusion. The one question he had every time he reached up to touch the mask, that one question that, he didn't know why, made him feel a profound sadness.

_Quirrel…_

_My apologies, but…_

_Who are you?_

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever read the official comic by Team Cherry about Quirrel? It is a lovely comic and details a few more details about our favorite bean bug and how he reached Hallownest. 
> 
> There will be an additional chapter detailing the Howling Cliffs; there was a deleted work I started before that I will be reusing for the Howling Cliffs and Dirtmouth.


End file.
